


Down to the Letter

by EstaJay



Series: Postman!Warriors [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Postman!Warriors, mailman!Link, postman!Link
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstaJay/pseuds/EstaJay
Summary: The Hero of Warriors isn't really a warrior or a knight or even a soldier. He's just a postman trying to deliver a letter and got mixed up in a war in the process.(He still hasn't delivered that letter)
Series: Postman!Warriors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807576
Comments: 62
Kudos: 281
Collections: RaeLynn's Epic Rec List





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starting to post this as a reminder to myself to actually finish it.

Every child has dreams of their future career.

"I want to be a knight!" says one, even though he's just a baker's son. 

"I want to be a smith!" says another, to carry on the family business.

Little Link has his own dreams of course. When asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?" his blue eyes sparkle with excitement. He bounces on the balls of his feet and the words race out of his mouth like he can't say them fast enough.

"I want to be a postman!"

* * *

A postman is a profession that no one enters willingly. There's an extensive laundry list as to why it’s a terrible job. 

The hours are long - running from sunrise to sunset to sunrise again until the allocated letters are delivered. 

The conditions are dreadful - roads are poorly maintained and far from the safest. Merchants rarely travel without half a dozen escorts to protect them yet a postman is expected to run the length alone.

The uniform is awful - that needs no explanation. Everyone knows how it looks. 

All the postmen would gladly take any other profession. A labourer. A farmer. A waste collector. Literally anything that would get them out of this dead end job. 

Then one day, along comes a youth - golden hair the glistens in the sun, eyes as blue as a sky and smile that would make any person swoon. All eyes turn as the youth saunters into the post office with his head held high and sheer confidence and charisma oozing from his being. Marc, who got lucky this week and was manning the front desk, finds himself even luckier as the youth comes to his counter. He has to be a noble, maybe even a foreign prince. His clothes say otherwise, a simple brown tunic well worn but well looked after, but that could simply be disregarded. 

"How can I help you sir?" Marc asks, barely keeping himself from salivating. 

The youth is young, just stepping into adulthood but still full of boyish charm. He leans over the counter and locks his gaze on Marc and it takes all of his willpower to not blurt out something completely stupid and wretch his chances of getting with this lovely gift from Hylia. 

"Where do I sign up?"

"P-pardon?"

The few eyes that weren't already on the youth immediately snapped to him.

"I want to be a postman." The youth said with a smile too bright and sincerely to be a joke. "Where do I sign up?"

And poor old Marc faints from the sheer insanity of it all. There was no way in all the Sacred Realm that anyone, let alone this stunning youth, would willingly want to become a postman. It is simply impossible. 

But that was the first of the many impossibilities bundled in this young man named Link.

* * *

Link is the greatest asset that the post office would never dream of appearing. 

He hails from a remote farm in the middle of nowhere on the other side of the kingdom so the post office becomes his home. Not that anyone ever sees him there. He’s always out on a delivery. No matter how far or how late or how dangerous the journey - if there’s a letter to deliver then Link is on the job. He even has every weekly motto memorised to the point he can accurately guess when a phrase would cycle around again. 

(And dear goddesses, how he looks in that uniform - no one ever complains about the dress code anymore.)

His sheer dedication is infectious. Productivity skyrockets the day Link joined. It isn't just the new eye candy - it’s the drive, the passion behind every single task. Have him sorting mail, dealing with complaints, running half-way across Hyrule and back again - he’ll do it without even a grumble. 

And the esteem he holds for his fellow postmen. Link looks at old Elias, the postmaster who's been with the office for over thirty years and the uniform shows everything  _ no one _ wants to see, as if he is the hero of courage in the flesh and not some geezer who wasted his life away. He talks to his fellow postmen like they had slain a dragon each and rescued the princess a dozen times over with an enthusiasm that never grows old. 

With all that, how can they not try a little harder?

Link is a postman and by the goddesses, he is proud of it. 

* * *

That fateful day began like any other. 

Link knocks on the door and a young woman answers it still in her bedclothes. No matter how late in the day or early in the evening, people always came to the door like they just came out of or were preparing to go to bed. It's Link's terrible luck. None of his colleges ever have such bad timing.

"Helloo Mr Postman~" the woman drawls as she leans against the door frame. Link's knocking must have woken the poor woman up. He really needs to be more considerate with his timing.

"Today's delivery ma'am." Link says with a tip of his hat while holding the letter out with his other hand. 

"Oh a delivery indeed." The woman said, eyeing Link up and down. His uniform must be dirty - the roads were still soft with morning dew and mud showed embarrassingly well on white cloth. 

"You seem to get an awful amount of letters, ma'am. Maybe the post office could hold on to them and deliver weekly. It seems daily deliveries are a bother to you." It's what Link tells all his customers. There was a sudden influx of letters at the post office, more than any of his seniors have ever seen in their entire career. It’s a good thing that he joined when he did.

"It's not a bother at all! I assure you, it's my utter joy to see you running to my home every day." 

And Link can't help his smile from widening. Letters that bring joy was what being a postman was all about.

"So that'll be twenty rupees for the postal fee, ma'am."

The woman pats around her nightgown before looking up great, almost over exaggerated shock. "It seems that I don't have any rupees on me. Maybe perhaps I can offer something else as payment~?" 

"My apologies ma'am but sadly turnips and pie cannot be considered payment." He hopes this isn't like old Lynda on top of the hill, who tries bartering with garden produce and pastries for her letters. As delicious as her apple pie is, the governor sadly doesn't accept them for taxes. 

"Maybe I can offer something else then? A favour for such a hardworking young man?" The woman is shaking and part of her shirt droops. Link must really have upset her. 

"Sorry ma'am but those are the rules and I can't go against them. No payment, no delivery." He drops the letter back in his messenger bag and tries not to look too stern. "Maybe you should consider the weekly deliveries if the postal fee is such a strain." 

The woman sighs and knocks over a pot by the door. It shatters and among the cracked clay is a single red rupee. "Oh it seems the goddesses have blessed me with exactly what I need!"

"The goddesses really do provide." Link nods as he exchanges the letter for the gem. 

It really is a curiosity that there always seems to be rupees in pots nowadays. This is the seventh time this week a customer has broken a pot to find the amount of rupees that they need. Maybe he should try breaking some pots if he needs some rupees in a pinch. 

"Don't be a stranger dearie!" The woman calls as Link leaves for his next delivery. Though under her breath she mutters, "a shame to see him go but always a  _ pleasure  _ to watch him leave."

* * *

Once again, Link is met with laughter as he recounts his tale to his seniors at the post office. 

"I really think we should consider weekly deliveries or perhaps changing the postal fee. We don't want to inconvenience our customers." Link says, ducking his head under his hat to hide his blush. It isn't even an isolated incident - almost every one of his deliveries end the same way. 

That only earns him more howling laughter. Link huffs in annoyance. What was so funny about trying to improve the postal system?

Cor, who towers over Link by two heads and has enough muscle to carry an oxen-sized mail bag on each shoulder, slaps him on the back and nearly knocks him off his feet. "I can't wait for the day the old puberty stick gives you a whack!"

"Care I remind you that I'm already a grown man!" But Link’s voice cracks at that exact moment.

"With the heart of the purest maiden!" Cor hollers. 

Marc nudges Link's side and winks. "Maybe you should take up one of those lovely customers on their 'favours'. You might find the experience enlightening."

"That would just be giving old Lynda a reason to give me twenty tarts for her grandson's letters." Link scowls. "And do you know what twenty tarts would do to my figure?"

Marc stares at him in disbelief. Of course he wouldn't understand, Link doubts he can imagine a day without scarfing down at least three fruit pies. 

Cor doubles over in laughter to the point that people start poking around their heads into the break room window. "Never change, Link-boy! Never change!"

Old Elias arrives before Link could pick up the game board and show moblin-brained Cor just how much of a maiden hearted boy he is. 

"Fuck, only three of you?" The postmaster grumbles. 

Link immediately straightens. It's never a good thing when Old Elias interrupts their breaks. "Dungo got sent to the Herba Mountains and won't be back for another week. Jol and Ezra are picking up the international letters from the docks. Everyone else is still on war duty." Link reports. 

"You really are wasted on this profession." Old Elias says, shaking his head. He clears his throat and says, "The army needs more messengers."

"More?!" Marc shrieks and Cor growls. 

"They've already taken half of us!" Marc says. 

"Nalph died to an arrow in the back because a stupid general had him running across the battlefield!" Cor says. 

But Link stands up and straightens his cap. "Which fort?"

"Hateno. Zomo was severely injured and Relson deserted." Old Elias says. "The bastard in charge wanted two at least but we barely have enough manpower to keep the post office running. One will have to do."

"You can't seriously be volunteering to be thrown into the war!" Marc says. "You could die! Or get disfigured!"

"We could draw lots. That way it'll be fair." Cor says. 

Link turns to his fellow postmen and says, "For want of a messenger, the letter was lost. For want of a letter, the battle was lost. For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost - and all for the want of a messenger."

Everyone stares in silence as Link makes his way to the door. 

"The key to ending this war could be in one postman." 

And that was the last they ever heard of Link for months to come.

* * *

Sometimes the only way to win a war is to lose it. 

General Endon has lived through a lifetime of wars and he knows a losing battle when he sees one. This isn't just an invading country or a sudden influx of monsters, this is something beyond any mortal comprehension. Nothing short of the emergence of the Legendary Hero himself can end this in a Hyrulean victory. 

So, he commits treason. 

The young ones these days don't understand the importance of information. They scoff at their assigned postmen and send them on fool's errands until they drop dead or desert. They fail to understand how a single letter could turn the tide of battle. That's half of his job done for him. Information is invaluable and destroying the messaging system is how an army loses all cohesion. 

Unfortunately, a pair of extremely diligent and competent postmen are assigned to his command. He runs the men ragged between the official documentations to keep his pretence of loyalty and inane ramblings that exist solely to frustrate the messenger. It gets one an arrow to the calf and an honourable discharge but the other doubles his efforts to make up for it. 

"Can't disappoint our little Link-boy." He grins despite being moments away from dropping dead from exhaustion. 

It's such a shame that man deserted. 

(It's such a shame he had to be disposed of, dead in a ditch for no one to find.)

Simply for the sake of pretence, he sends ridiculous demands to the post office for his replacement messengers. Either they disregard his requests or they put further strain on their already limited resources.

They send him a boy.

He claims to be a man but the old general can still see the milk on his lips and the wetness behind his ears. The boy is as green as they come.

The boy is also the best they had to offer. 

Endon has never seen such a drive behind any postman - Din's balls, any man at all. The boy works at the pace of a dozen men with Farore's Wind blowing at his heels. He could send the boy to the Citadel and he would be back within a day - clothes completely unblemished and bag filled with urgent correspondence for this futile war effort. By the Sacred Realm, the boy has even taken to delivering letters between the soldiers between jobs.

The boy can also fight. 

By sheer chance Endon stumbles upon the boy on his way back from a delivery from a nearby fortress. He's completely surrounded by a force of bokoblins and Endon is certain that it's the end of the boy. But he whips that silly sign attached on his back and swings it like a spear - easily subduing half of his foes. Even the monsters are taken aback but that doesn't stop them from charging at the boy who kills them with a single strike as they approach. 

But that sign wasn't built to be a weapon and it breaks from the stress. 

Endon keeps observing, now out of curiosity. What will this boy do next?

The boy pulls a sword from his little letter bag and absolutely slaughters the remaining monsters - that's what. 

Endon is barely able to restrain his shock. The boy knowing how to use a spear is one thing, villages often train their young men how to use those types of weapons, but a sword? Contrary to popular belief, not any chucklefuck can pick up a blade and instantly know how to fight with it. It takes years of training and experience to wield one effectively in combat, let alone with the skill and grace the boy displayed. 

There's no way this could be some farm boy.

Endon approaches the boy as he dusts himself off - barely a scratch on him aside from the odd splatter of monster blood on his shorts. 

He immediately straightens on sight and Endon knows he's fighting military instinct to salute. 

"General, sir!" the boy says. "I apologise for my unsightly appearance-"

Endon barks out in laughter at the boy's priorities. "Your appearance boy?!"

The boy blushes like a maiden and not like a warrior who's done the work of a battalion of men. "I represent both the Hyrulean Postal Service and the Hyrulean Royal Army. To appear anything less than presentable would be a disgrace to both-"

"Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

The boy's embarrassment gave way to fear. "You...you saw that?"

"What are you? A noble runaway? A deserter? A draft dodger?"

"I am a postman." The boy says boldly, looking the general dead in the eye. There's something familiar with the defiance in his eyes. 

"What's your name, boy?" Endon never bothered learning it before, thinking the boy would be dead in a matter of days, but his suspicions are growing. 

"Link."

"Every other boy is named Link. Link what?"

To his credit, the boy stands his ground and doesn't cower. "Link the postman." He says firmly. “Your deliveries, sir.”

The boy hands him a pile of wax sealed parchment and stalks off back to camp, leaving the befuddled general in his wake. 

A competent postman is one thing - but there is no way this boy is  _ just  _ a postman. Endon had seen him fight and he knows a warrior when he sees one. 

(And with a name like Link... would it be too much for this old fool to wish that the Hero's Spirit has been reborn?)

This is a war that's already lost. The only thing Endon can do is end it quickly and minimise the casualties. 

And this boy would get in the way of his treasonous plans. 

He sends the boy to Hyrule Castle - with a letter to kill him on sight the moment it's open. 

* * *

Appearance is of the utmost importance to a postman. Turning up with a torn mud-soaked uniform will get you a door slammed in your face, the authorities being called on you and, the absolute worst outcome, a letter undelivered. That's why Link always made sure he always had at least six spare uniforms on him at any given time. The fabric may allow for maximal mobility but durable it is not. 

Yet all these spare uniforms are filthy, shredded or completely destroyed by the time he makes it to Hyrule Castle.

The letter is untouched though. It lies at the bottom of his messenger bag, carefully wrapped in cloth and paper less anything happens to damage it. This could likely be the most important letter of his life - this might even be the coveted letter to end the war. Why else would the old general order him to bring it to Hyrule Castle as quickly as possible and deliver it to the Commander of the entire Royal Army.

The goddesses hear his prayers as he makes it to the Castle at a near inhuman rate. He feels Farore's Wind at his heels, Din's Fire at his blade and Naryu's Love shielding him from harm. 

But he arrives at the Castle absolutely filthy. 

War changing letter or not, there is no way in all the Sacred Realm that Link was appearing before the Commander looking like a bed-boy who's gone through an entire battalion. 

Sneaking into the barracks is so ridiculously easy that Link is slightly concerned about their security. He would have gone to the Castletown Post Office but he knows it's been temporarily closed with all resources diverted to the war efforts - which means no uniforms there. He sneaks from room to room looking for any fellow postman but instead finds the soldier supply room. He would have passed it by but he can feel his shorts falling apart at the seams and there's no way he was running around the Castle in his underwear.

Link has worn plate armour before but it's a first for chain-mail and it makes a world of difference. It's still ridiculously heavy and the mobility and flexibility is nothing compared to his uniform but it’s better than nothing. 

He can't help but stare at his reflection as he passes a window. The grey tunic with the royal crest boldly emblazoned across his chest, his sword at his hip rather than hidden in the depths of his messenger bag. Give him a helmet and he could pass a proper Hyrulean knight. 

Link still thinks he looks better in his postman uniform. 

He sees a pair of soldiers ahead and he runs towards them for directions. He isn't expecting to be yelled at and be dragged by the ear to the palace courtyard where the other knights are training. 

Oh right, his clothes. 

Link spars with them because why not - it's been too long since he's had a proper spar...and is severely disappointed by how easily he defeats partner after partner. Link's only a postman and these are all trained knights. They should be able to last more than a handful of seconds against him. 

Link rushes into battle when he hears that the Castle is under attack because if the Castle falls then his letter becomes pointless. 

He isn't expecting the dragon knight to swoop into the middle of the battle.

He isn't expecting to defend General Impa. 

He definitely isn't expecting for the Triforce to shine on his hand. 

The next thing he knows, Link is thrown into a green tunic with a stupid hat but a cool scarf and everyone starts calling him “Hero”. 

At least he gets another postman uniform.

* * *

The war ends and Link still hasn't delivered that letter.


	2. Chapter 2

"HEYYY!"

The heroes come to a sudden halt. Legend and Hyrule stiffly turn, hands already at their weapons. A lanky man in a white shorts and a midriff-bearing singlet raced towards them, a red hat askew on his head. A red banner embroidered with a golden rabbit protruded from the pack on his back.

"A fucking postman?" Legend mutters in disbelief.

"That man doesn't look like a post...or anyone I would want at a post." Hyrule says, eyeing the man's attire incredulously. 

"Not that kind of post - like messenger." Four explains, but suspicion colours his voice. 

Hyrule nods but still looks perplexed. "He wouldn't last very long dressed like that - the messenger always gets shot."

"It's light-weight and has good ventilation." Warriors says, oddly defensive. "Don't mind the breeze if you can deliver with ease."

The postman freezes midway giving a letter to Sky. He turns swiftly to Warriors, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The other heroes instinctively reach for their weapons. 

"When?" the postman mouths. “When was that the office motto?” 

"Yesterday, three moons ago and just before mid-harvest." Warriors says without missing a beat, a smile growing on his lips. "It's good to see you’re in good health, Dungo. Finally got off mountain duty?" 

The postman launches himself at Warriors, tackling him to the ground with no resistance. Swords are drawn but Warriors quickly raises his hand. The postman isn't attacking their fellow hero but instead has him in a tight embrace. 

"It really is you!" the postman sobs. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

The smile grows stupidly wide on Warriors' face. "You were on the job. Couldn't distract you from your duty." 

The postman laughs as he and Warriors stumble back onto their feet. "It's you alright. Duty before anything else."

"You know him?" Time asks, sword lowered but still unsheathed. 

"An old coworker." Warriors says. "...who I shouldn't be distracting when he still has a job to do." 

"This has to be an exception! Everyone thought you were dead!"

Warriors pales. "...Din's balls..."

Oh right, Warriors comes from a Hyrule still in the throngs of war. If the shadow portals had taken him in the middle of battle, who knows what chaos his squad would have been thrown into with the sudden disappearance of their captain-

"I still haven't delivered that letter." Warriors says, utterly devastated.

Incredulity sweeps across all the men. 

"A...letter?"

The postman slaps his hand to his forehead and sighs but his lips twitched into a smile. "Your priorities haven't changed one bit." 

"And now I’m keeping you from the job!" Warriors cries, his voice high pitched with dramatic horror that the others couldn't tell if it’s an act or genuine. "You've got to get going Dungo! The goddesses strike me down if I delay you for any longer!"

"The fuck is wrong with the captain?" Legend scowls. 

"It's just Link being Link." The postman says, adjusting his hat. "I'll tell the others that you got recruited into the army - finally a much better use for your talents."

"That was a big misunderstanding. I would never leave the office." Warriors says firmly - only to devolve back into his dramatic woes. "Dear goddesses, how far have I placed them behind schedule? And now here I am again dragging them further back-"

While Warriors continues with his senseless mutterings, Sky identifies the letter as written in Wind's Hylian to which the boy confusedly confirms. 

"This is my regular mail."

Legend, giving up making any sense of Warriors, turns his attention to more pressing matters. "But this isn't your Hyrule...or the drama queen's."

"How could someone Warriors knows get Wind's mail and deliver it to somewhere else entirely?" Wild says.

Twilight's eyes widens. "This doesn't make any sense... how did the postman get this?! HEY!"

But the postman is nowhere in sight. Twilight stares blankly at the empty road, hand still raised as he searches for a man that is long gone. 

"Now that's dedication." Time mutters. 

Warriors finally got over his sudden madness to say, "Don't expect anything less from the Hyrulean Postal Service."

* * *

The letter becomes the centre of the group's concerns as they made camp for the night - well, everyone except Warriors who thought that this near impossible delivery isn't a major concern over their safety but rather something to be proud about. 

"Not even the boundaries of time and space can stop a postman!" Warriors declares.

"That's not a good thing, you know." Sky says, exasperated.

Warriors blinks owlishly. "Why?"

"Pass me the skillet." Legend says. "The captain's clearly out on his mind."

"Find your own. This is my good one." Wild scowls, snatching the pan out of Legend's reach - but then he eyes the pan curiously. "Although..."

"Frying pans are not valid weapons." Twilight quickly says. 

"But mops and spoons are!" Wild protests. "Especially if they're on fire!"

"NO FIRE!"

Time plops between the two of them before their argument could continue further. 

"I'm surprised you're so familiar with the postmen." Time says neutrally but his tone implores for more.

He remembers his time in Warriors' Hyrule. Postmen were a regular sight at the camps and forts. Despite ferrying integral information through the most dangerous of battlefields, nearly every person that tiny Time met looked down on the occupation. A dead-end job for layabouts with a dead-end life, many soldiers had said. Time had scowled and tried to get Proxi to argue that they were just as dutiful as any soldier and just as important. However, the fairy had actually agreed with them - saying that no self-respecting Hylian would ever willingly join the post office. Tiny Time had ditched the fairy for the rest of the time at that camp and with his voice still unused to the Hyrulean tongue, had taken to kicking at the shins of anyone who badmouthed the postmen. 

Warriors had always ignored them - only ever acknowledging the postmen if they had a letter for him and always swiftly dismissing them without a single pleasantry. Tiny Time had assumed that Warriors shared the same view as the rest of them but the sense to keep his mouth shut. 

That apparently isn't the case.

Warriors doesn't answer immediately. His expression slackens and his eyebrow ever so slightly quirks at Time's tone. That means many things in their secret little language but Time feels that this translates to "you're being a paranoid lil shit over nothing".

Everyone waits with bated breath as Warriors' drags the silence on for longer than necessary. 

"Of course I would know." Warriors says haughtily - as if they had missed something obvious. "I am a postman."

WHAT?!

"...So you used to be a postman before joining the army?" Twilight asks, his voice cracking. He does  _ not  _ need a mental image of Warriors running around in those ridiculous shorts.

Warriors scoffs. "No. I've always been and still am a postman. I never joined the army." 

Time's eyes grow ridiculously wide - as if something isn't quite processing. "But you fought on the battlefield."

"If you got dragged into a battle, you had no choice but to fight."

"Your soldiers all call you captain."

"I never held any ranks - and those were General Impa's men, not mine."

Time gurgles incoherently. "But - uniform?"

Warriors beams. "I still have it. I'll quickly change-"

"NO!"

They already have a mental image - an actual one would be too scarring.

"A postman...a fucking postman..." Legend mutters as if repeating the information over and over again would make it sound more real and not some practical joke. 

Warriors doesn't even twitch - he is completely fucking serious. 

"I think I need to reevaluate my role models." Wind says. 

"There's something wrong about being a postman?" Wild asks. 

Sky shrugs. "I think it's another Surface thing. We used loftwings to deliver letters back home."

"Warriors would make a good postman. Less likely to get shot." Hyrule says, nodding sagely. 

"I'll explain it to you later." Four says to the three who lacked postmen in their kingdoms. "But...a fucking postman..."

"So how did a postman become the kingdom's hero?" Twilight asks, still waiting for Warriors to burst out laughing and saying it was all one big joke. 

"A big misunderstanding." Warriors says with a shrug. "Got sent to Hyrule Castle and my uniform got damaged along the way so I borrowed a soldier's. One thing led to another and next thing I know a glorified corn chip glows on my hand and boom - the general gives me a new tunic and scarf and tells everyone I'm the hero."

"There has to be more than that."

"That's exactly what happened! I was sent to deliver a letter and -" Warriors blanches. "Dear goddesses, I still haven't delivered that letter!"

"Fucking priorities, pretty boy!" Legend scowls. 

But an impish grin spreads across Wild's face as he reaches into his tunic. "You mean this letter?"

Warriors jolts to his feet. "Hey! How'd you get that?!"

"You snoop in my stuff, I snoop in yours." Wild says, raising the letter high above his head. 

"That contains sensitive information regarding the war effort! Give it!"

Warriors tackles Wild but just before they hit the ground, Time plucks the letter out of Wild's hand. While the two wrestle for the letter that is in neither's possession, Time breaks open the seal. He has never been one to curb his curiosity and he wants to see what correspondence created the hero they knew today.

Time scans the words - and regrets ever reading them. 

Warriors shoves Wild's face into the dirt and growls at Time. "Lil shit! You know better than to..." his words trailed off as he saw the unadulterated horror on Time's face. "Hey Time? Lil shit? Young Link?"

Time finally brakes out of his stupor. His face is blank. He refolds the letter and tucks it away into the collar of his tunic. "You have the last perimeter check with me." Time says, his voice leaving no room for argument. He then turns to the others. "Don't pry."

There is a silent gasp. 'Don't pry' is an unspoken rule they developed out of respect for their fellow heroes' privacy. They all had their adventures and traumas. The simple acceptance is what holds the group together. If someone would disclose something, it would be on their own terms...but for Time to vocalise it...to order it...

What is in that letter?

* * *

Time knows that the other heroes would be respectful enough not to eavesdrop but he takes Warriors further into the woods less any of these private words be overheard.

Warriors follows solemnly, seething with both rage and worry until Time finally comes to a stop. Time hands him back the letter which Warriors shoves into the safety of his tunic. He opens his mouth to speak but Time still looks over his shoulder - as if he’s expecting an attack. 

_ "You okay, lil shit?" _ Warriors signs, keeping his hands close to his chest thus making sure only Time could see them. 

The haunted look still lingers in Time's eyes. Warriors had only seen it once before - when Skull Kid first joined their ranks with Majora's Mask still in their possession.  _ "The letter." _ He signs stiffly.

_ "Don't tell me what's written in it. I have my integrity as a postman to uphold."  _

_ "Dumbass big bro." _

Warriors knows that tone. Though a grown man stands before him, he sees a little boy with a petulant pout and eyes centuries older than they should be - a boy who could rewind time itself and had subjected himself to years of loops in order to get an outcome that would save everyone. 

Warriors sighs. Duty above all else - but family above that.  _ "What did it say." _

_ "It said you were to be executed on sight." _ Anger flows through Time's words and Warriors doubted the full power of the Fierce Deity Mask could ever compare.  _ "That bastard general had you carrying your own death warrant." _

And those words were a cold dagger through his heart. 

_ "No." _ Warriors signs preemptively. He knows that Time would never lie about the contents of the letter but he knows what Time would do if they ever stumble into his Hyrule. The general would never survive the encounter.  _ "General E-N-D-O-N is mine to deal with." _

Time frowns but he doesn't dispute Warriors' claim on the man.  _ "Why?" _ he asks instead.  _ "Why does he want you dead?" _

_ "I'm not someone many people want to keep alive."  _ Warriors clears his throat. "Let's head back."

Warriors turns towards camp and doesn't glance back to see if Time would follow. Time is not excluded from the no prying rule either. 

There is more unfinished business than just undelivered letters waiting for him on his return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple little references to verymerrysioux's Mental Training ;)

It’s only a matter of time before mysterious dark portals dragged them into Warriors' Hyrule (though for a while, it felt like the teleporting-powers-that-be had them indefinitely cycling through Wild's and Wind's kingdoms). Of course, it couldn't be an interdimensional jump without the heroes being set upon monsters that aren't native to the current era. 

Warriors ducks as another one of those flying flaming skulls charges at his head. 

"Okay, whose era is responsible for these hellspawn?!" Warriors growls, finally landing a solid hit on the erratically flying monster. One down, another dozen million to go. 

"Well excuuuse me, captain!" Legend snarks, knocking back another three with a lucky swipe. "But you seem to be in the minority when it comes to facing bubbles."

"Who in all the Sacred Realm named these demons bubbles?!"

"Less chatting, more slashing pretty boy! Just don't get hit by those bastards!"

Right, they already have one casualty. Other than Warriors, Sky and Wild are the only other heroes who have never encountered these monsters before. The latter had unfortunately mistaken the bubbles for fire keese and had taken a nasty blow. It isn't fatal but the curse it inflicted prevents Wild from properly wielding any weapons - which leads to the hardheaded idiot throwing himself around like a meat shield to prevent anyone else from being similarly afflicted. They are lucky there aren’t any other monsters with the flock of bubbles or else he would have been left completely open for more serious attacks.

It’s an utterly tedious battle - more akin to swatting flies than actual combat. A small mercy is that the monsters didn't have any black blood strengthening them, not that they had any blood to begin with but still - small mercies. 

With the last of the bubbles defeated, Warriors finally takes a good look at their surroundings. It is another generic forest path - a familiar generic forest path that has been the backdrop to many of his mental training sessions. The home stretch. He gives a stupidly wide grin.

Warriors dashes down the path, not even waiting for his companions to catch their breath. It’s perfectly straight and well-worn, they can easily catch up. 

"Warriors?!"

"What's gotten into you!"

"Oi Captain Idiot!"

"Hey! Where are you going?!"

"Get back here!"

There is no curbing his excitement. He has trained himself to a pace of over a hundred and eighty steps per minute. His feet blur beneath him but he remains surefooted and steadfast. Not even the steepness of the hill can slow his pace. It’s only a matter of time before he sees it. 

Nestled on the top of the hill, on a cliff overlooking a trickling river - is the post office. 

Warriors can barely contain his glee but he has enough presence of mind to remember his manners. Bursting through the front door will definitely be disrupting business. He can go through the side entrance but that would disturb whoever’s on break. There’s the large delivery door but if they are receiving a large parcel, entering through there would cause an even bigger distraction. 

Before he could decide on where to enter, Warriors is pulled back by a yank on his scarf. He barely manages to keep his balance but is caught in an awkward backward curve, facing the upside-down scowling face of a pissed Legend. 

"What's the big idea leaving us behind, asshole?"

"It's a post office." Time says as the rest of the heroes came up the hill. 

Legend abruptly releases Warriors' scarf and he falls gracelessly backwards, landing at Four's feet.

Four looms over him, arms crossed and thoroughly unimpressed. "What's got you so excited about a post office?"

"Why wouldn't I be excited about a post office?" Warriors retorts, a goofy smile still plastered on his face. 

He gets back onto his feet with a single precarious leap and dusts himself off. With a group this big, they might as well go through the main entrance. It’s mid-afternoon anyway, hopefully it won't be that busy so they don’t cause a commotion. 

The flowers planted on the front yard are new. Wild is oddly carefully around them, precariously avoiding each petal with a mutter of "don't step on the flowers."

Warriors' eyes however are drawn to the bronze plaque by the door surrounded by small gifts and offerings like a small shrine. 

_ In memory of those who served honourably during the war. Lest we forget. _

Warriors runs his fingers over the names listed underneath, phantom faces jumping to the forefront of his mind. Too many names - more than half their team, some of them not even assigned to military duty. A postman's job becomes all the more dangerous in times of war - and the nasty habit of shooting the messenger doesn’t help. He stops on the name at the bottom of the list - the most recently carved one.

_ Link _

Oh right, they think he’s dead. Not an invalid assumption - he hasn't reported back to his post in months. For as common as his name was, Warriors knows he is the only postman named Link. Sardonically, he thinks of what the soldier’s memorial would look like - nearly every other Hylian he met on the battlefield was named Link.

(Many of the traitors had been named Link.) 

He senses the others standing awkwardly behind him. They all had their adventures - saved towns, fought monsters, rescued princesses - but this thin sheet of metal is a more brutal reminder than any scar or bloody battlefield of how different Warriors’ was.

"They were good men." Warriors says softly. "It was an honour to call even one of them brother - to serve alongside them."

"May their souls find rest in Blessed Hylia." Sky offers solemnly as the others mutter their own prayers for the dead.

The door to the post office suddenly slams open. A postman, tall, lanky and as plain looking as any other, storms out with tired rage.

"OI! We've got a no loitering rule here! Pay all the respects you want but unless you've got a letter, you'll be doing more harm by trampling on Link's -" The postman abruptly stops in his rant as his gaze falls on Warriors. All his irritation and anger melts away to shock and disbelief. "...Link?" he says quietly. 

Warriors smiles, smaller than before but all the more genuine. "Hi Marc." 

He stands to his feet and offers a hand for an awkward handshake. He should have expected the tackle of a hug. 

"Please tell me it's really you! I can't take any more stupid hallucinations!" But the man is already sobbing unabashedly into his shoulder with his arms flug tightly around Warriors' neck. 

"Don't crumple your uniform - you still need to look presentable." But it’s all mirth and no scolding in Warriors' voice as he rubs circles Marc's back. "And please tell me you left someone to man the front desk."

"It really is you - you duty-obsessed brat!"

A tall shadow looms from the door as another man emerges from the post office - twice as tall as any of the heroes with a body built for wrestling gorons rather than delivering mail with all the intimidation of a newly awakened hinox.

"Need some help chancing off those loiters?" He darkly booms but his face immediately lightens - wide-eyed, slack-jawed and gobsmacked. 

"Hi Cor." Warriors says with a weak wave. "Did you leave the front desk unmanned too?"

"LINK!"

And both Warriors and Marc are lifted clean off the floor in a back-breaking embrace. 

The commotion is loud enough to draw another postman out of the office - this time an old man with his uniform covered by a faded red cloak with the post office symbol sewn into it. 

"Oi! You slackers get back to work!"

"But it's Link!"

"He's alive!"

The old man looks completely unfazed as his eyes fall on Warriors. "You're legally dead, y'know. I've filed a death certificate and everything."

Cor drops the other two and scowls at the old man. "Link just came back from the dead and the first thing you do is berate him about paperwork?!"

"What else was he supposed to say?" Warriors says with a shrug. "I'll sort it out. Apologies for the inconvenience - there was a minor misunderstanding on duty."

"You'd better sort those out, boy." The old man scowls. 

"For once in your lives will you two get your priorities straight?!" 

But the old man ignores Marc's outburst and turns to the other heroes who have been awkwardly standing throughout the postmen reunion. "So who’re these fuckers? You don't have any brothers...or cousins for the matter.”

"It's a long story, Elias." Warriors says. 

"Well it's a slow day, might as well start talking."

* * *

"So our little Link turned out to be the Legendary Hero!" Cor says heartily, slapping Warriors on the back after his rendition of his adventures and the meeting of the heroes. 

"Not surprised that you got mistaken for a soldier." Old Elias says. 

Warriors scoffs. "They should have been able to tell the difference between a soldier and a postman. No offence to the princess and the general, but for some reason they think I'm a captain." He bites his tongue to stop himself from saying that he isn’t a hero either - he knows current company won't appreciate that. “By the way, during the war, I got some inspiration on how to better break in newbies-”

"You fought in a war, met some of the most powerful people in the kingdom and are currently travelling with the greatest heroes in history but the only thing on your mind is  _ postman duty?! _ " Marc says incredulously. 

“I’m a postman. What  _ else  _ am I supposed to be thinking about.” As interesting as this adventure has been, all it has done is distract him from his normal duties. 

Marc sighs. “You haven’t changed one bit.” But then a cheeky smile spreads across his face. "So you met the princess. How would you rate her?"

"She would make a terrible postman. She gets sidetracked more than Lingam does - did." Warriors' gaze drifts around the foyer - completely empty save for the heroes and three postmen, all seated around tables dragged from the breakroom and Old Elias' office. "...where is everyone? The war didn't take that many of us."

Old Elias sighs. "Most of those who returned from war duty resigned due to battleshock. The rest were reassigned to offices that took a bigger hit."

"Three men isn't enough to run an office." Warriors scowls. 

"No. It's not. And those goddess-damned portals aren't helping one bit."

"Portals?" Time asks, drawing the other heroes into the conversation.

"Yes portals." 

The old man pulls a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and unfurls it over the combined tables. It’s a map of Hyrule but what makes it different are the large patches stuck onto it depicting places that were decidedly not part of this era - Skyloft, the Great Sea, the Twili Realm...

"I kept my nose out of the politics of the last war but whatever magic they were messing with still hasn't left. Deliveries aren't just a matter of where now but  _ when _ ."

"So you just throw your men into random portals and hope for the best just for a letter?" Legend says cynically. 

The old man looks Legend right in the eye. "If a letter falls into our service, it is our duty to deliver it regardless of where it comes from or where it has to go."

The most recent letter from his sister weighs in Wind's pocket heavier than any steel or stone.

"Three still isn't enough." Warriors says. "This is the Hyrule Fields Office - we get the most traffic second only to Castletown and nearly all the transit posts."

"That's why we were left with three. Castletown only has four and every other office has to make do with two. With how shit recruitment has been, expect those numbers to drop soon." 

"Then the Crown needs to do something about it!" Warriors says, silently promising to march up to the princess himself and demand action. 

"They're considering using the postal service as a community correction order for minor criminal offences."

"Might as well as add criminal to the list of assumptions people make about us." Cor scowls.

But Warriors knows the history - why postmen have such a notorious reputation. When war comes, the best postmen are handed over to the military. Whether by death or dismissal, not all of them return to service. With posts that need to be filled, the Crown opens up its dungeons and uses men who don’t give a damn about integrity or honour. Then they have the audacity to wonder why postal recruitment rates are so low. 

He thought he would have to work his way up to postal master before he could start making changes but he’s the ‘hero’ now. He has the princess’s ear and more influence than he could have ever imagined. He can convince her that was a  _ bad idea _ , show her the history books and how having legions of unemployed, bored, restless and  _ armed _ soldiers was a good way to start a civil war. How that can all be avoided if they redirected them from one public service to another.

But that takes time. Until then though... 

Warriors stands up. "Then we have a week and nine extra hands to turn that around."

A week is the minimum that the portals give them in an era. A week is more than enough time to set his plan into action. (A week is enough time to settle his unfinished business.)

That immediately spurns a reaction from the other heroes. Legend in particular looks ready to jump up and argue with Warriors but the silent plea in his eyes made him lie back into his chair and cross his arms. 

Legend scowls. "Next time, ask us first." 

"Do we have to wear the uniform?" Wind asks.

Warriors grins. "Of course you're all wearing the uniform!"

Twilight drops his head into the table and groans. "Dear goddesses that uniform..."

Four buries his head in his hands. "What happens in this Hyrule  _ stays  _ in this Hyrule."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last of my complete prewritten chapter - let's see if I can keep this update schdule


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late but the chapter's here! thank Merry for helping beef this out from the original LW!

Warriors signs the last of the paperwork with a frivolous flourish of his quill. Elias sighs as he straightens the papers with a firm tap and shoves them in the top drawer of his desk to be filed away later. 

"You know that this is all meaningless bureaucracy, right?"

"But procedure dictates that all leaves, approved and unapproved, must be recorded!" Warriors insists. 

Elias shoots him a tired yet stern look. "Boy, you're probably the only person who's read the post office procedures since they were first written. Presumed death should be enough to excuse the both of us from all this paperwork."

"Well actually-"

"Quote a rule, procedure or whatever damn regulatory bullshit you've memorised and these papers are going straight down your throat." Elias sighs again. "Your talents really are wasted on this profession. You have the training and dedication that puts the best knights in the kingdom to shame. The goddesses themselves have chosen you as their hero - yet you still come running back here the first chance you get. You're better off staying with the military."

Warriors straightens to his full height - his armour gleaming in candlelight. "I chose to be a postman. You of all people should know why."

"That you did. That you did." Elias gives a sardonic laugh. "A stupid choice if you ask literally anyone else but your choice nonetheless. That's highborn stubbornness for you."

Warriors inadvertently stiffens. "I'm a postman. Who I was or where I came from is inconsequential.”

Elias laughs again, this time harsher and more mocking. "Stick to that story boy. It's kept you alive for this long."

Warriors bites his tongue and swallows his remark. The past he left behind might soon be catching up to him. 

His mind drifts to the letter nestled in tunic. The letter that inadvertently made him a hero. The letter he is duty-bound to deliver. The letter that will be his demise if he doesn't handle the situation correctly. 

"This would be a violation of several privacy rules-"

"Din damn the rules. Just spit it out, boy."

"General Jarred Endon."

The old man pauses and eyes him carefully. Warriors holds his breath but kept his stance firm and eyes trained forward. 

Then Elias shakes his head. "Should have known you would have gotten into the thick of it. Should have sent one of the other boys...but then we would have had another 'deserter'."

Warriors' eyes narrows. "Relson wasn't the type to desert."

"We're still looking for the body." Elias walks out from behind his desk. "Endon values the kingdom over the king and lives spared over a victory...and he's willing to use any means to reach his ends, regardless of the sacrifices that need to be made. You're going to find yourself knee deep in conspiracy if you plan to cross paths with him again."

"I have a letter to deliver."

Elias shakes his head again but a poorly hidden smile creeps across his lips. "That you do. I would say the goddesses be with you but there's already proof of that on your left hand. Now about those heroes you've 'volunteered'..."

* * *

It takes a stupidly long time to get uniforms sorted but fortunately, or unfortunately, they are able to get it done with daylight to spare. 

"You know, I think I can actually work with this." Wild says, strutting across the room swaying his hips, completely unperturbed by the skin and scar tissue he revealed. 

"Uhh..." Sky eyes Wild with concern. "Isn't your underwear umm, longer than those shorts? But...nothing's peeking out?"

Wild gives a feral grin. "Do you really think that anyone can wear underwear with these shorts?"

"I'm wearing undies!" Wind says a little too cheekily to be as obliviously innocent as he pretended to be. With his uniform being custom fitted, his shorts ended just above the knee rather than mid-thigh like the others. 

Four elbows Legend and smirks. "Guess this would be right up your alley."

Legend scowls. "First off - fuck you. Secondly, I fucking hate this uniform." Though he can't complain about it being uncomfortable. Whatever sorcery Warriors pulled, the uniform he threw at Legend fit him perfectly. The uniforms he gave everyone were a perfect fit despite him not knowing any of their sizes - or Legend hoped he didn’t because that would be an entirely new level of weird. “Of all the things to remain consistent between our eras, it has to be the  _ fucking postman uniform.” _

"Honestly, you shouldn't have a problem with this considering you're normally pantsless."

"Once again - fuck you."

Everyone purposely adverts their eyes from Time. No one wanted to wear the uniform but no one ever wanted to see Time in it. That is a greater curse than anything Demise could ever bestow on them. 

However, Time doesn’t actually mind it that much. A part of him has always wanted to wear the uniform but at first he was too young then when he was finally old enough, the post office’s reputation started to decline in his era. He’s certain Malon wouldn’t mind, he’s sure that she would absolutely enjoy seeing him in uniform, but he didn’t want to risk Talon’s ire considering he already thought him ‘mad’ from the ‘stories’ he tells. It’s nice to finally try the uniform on after so many years. Besides, Kokiri don’t bother much with underwear either. 

“Uhh, Time? Why do you have your own hat?” Hyrule asks, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. He doesn’t mind the uniform either but bearing his midriff means exposing the scar on his side. 

“It also looks less stupid.” Legend grumbles. “Wait - don’t fucking tell me that you’re a postman as well!”

Time gives a cryptic smile but for once, he doesn’t leave it at that. “I helped out a postman when I was younger and he gave me this as a gift.” He tips his hat, a more rounded cap compared to the standard design. “It was quite useful for peeking into mailboxes in a certain town I was visiting.”

“And  _ what  _ were you doing peeking in mailboxes, you lil shit?”

Warriors emerges from the postmaster's office fully dressed in uniform and arms crossed, glaring at Time. 

But all Time does is smile again and turn away. 

"Isn't it weird to see Warriors' without his scarf?" Wind asks.

"Isn't it weird how good Warriors looks in the uniform?" Wild asks.

"Isn't it weird that Warriors is a fucking postman of all goddess damned things?" Legend growls.

Cor comes around and throws an arm around Warriors, catching him in a friendly headlock. “Now this is a sight for sore eyes.” He chuckles. “The army really bulked out your skinny ass.”

“You look even better than before.” Marc says with a leery grin. 

Warriors smiles back, tapping out of Cor’s hold. “That’s what sword swinging does. Shouldn’t slow down my speed though - I’ve been keeping up my training so I should be faster than ever!” 

They both laugh with that same exasperated fondness Warriors has missed. But he notices how careful Cor’s grip is around his forearm, gently avoiding the burn scars that run up the length. He knows what Marc sees by standing behind him, the collection of scars on his back that outnumber those on his front. All the heroes have scars to bear but he knows his are harder for his old coworkers when they still remember what he looked like without them. They don’t say anything about them, however, and Warriors is grateful for it.

He would cover them up but he remembers Zomo during the war, who seemed to have a new scar on him every time Warriors spied him on the battlefield yet no shame in leaving them exposed. Looking back, Warriors should have called him over, to say hi, to reassure him that he wasn’t dead - but of course, duty first. He isn’t hurt that no one recognised him - no one would look at the hero and think that he was a missing postman. He should track down where everyone was reassigned, if only to send a quick memo saying he was still alive. 

“So ‘Warriors’, eh?” Cor says. “With a name like yours, it was only a matter of time before you landed a nickname - though would’ve thought you’d go with Postie or something.” 

Warriors shrugs. “The nickname was given to me. I swear, every time I try to tell someone I’m a postman, there’s some sort of interruption.”

“The goddesses have a sense of humour.” Time pipes. 

“Speaking of humour,” Warriors turns to Time and crosses his arms again. “It’s not funny to kick the shins of people you disagree with.”

Time laughs. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Good.” but Warriors knows that glint in his eye, there’s a ‘but’ coming up that’s going to lead to more headaches in the future. 

“...I can aim much higher now.”

“ _ No.”  _ It really was too much to hope the brat actually grew up after all these years. 

“Wait.” Marc says, staring at Time with wide eyes. “ _ You’re  _ our tiny shin-kicking murder child?”

“Shin-kicking murder child?” Hyrule asks. 

Time smirks and holds his hands up. “Guilty as charged.”

But that smirk doesn’t last long before Cor sweeps Time off the floor in a hug. “You little rascal! You made putting up with those army snobs all the more worth it!”

“You shouldn’t have had to put up with it anyway.” Time says, not even choked for breath. 

“Well he grew up rather  _ finely _ .” Marc says. “I’ve been itching to know your official rating of him, Link.”

Warriors hums as Cor sets Time down. “A-.”

“Oh? Where’d he lose points? Can’t be for age.”

“Because he’s still a lil shit and that always loses points. He needs work on staying objective.” Warriors has to be careful about where he assigns Time - for as cheerful as he was acting, neither of them have forgotten about Endon. “Also we can’t keep him. He has a wife to go home to and I don’t Ms Malon would appreciate us stealing her husband.”

“ _ He’s also Mr Lon?!” _

“Marc! You’ve already used up your swooning allowance for the month!” Elias calls from inside his office. “Keep it in your shorts or it’s coming out of your paycheck!” 

Marc pouts and grumbles but says nothing more. 

"So what's the plan, captain?" Four asks. The sooner they get this over and done with, the sooner they could all get out of this forsaken uniform. 

Warriors has his Strategy Face on. They have all seen it before whenever Time passed strategizing onto Warriors but he looked way too serious for something as mundane as delivering letters. Then again, given what they had seen of Warriors' priorities, letter delivery would be the most Serious Business there is. 

“Training. You’re only temporary workers but we aren’t going to hand letters over to a bunch of untrained greenhorns.”

“It’s just letters.” Wild says. “How bad could the training be?”

* * *

The first part of ‘training’ appeared deceptively simple with the heroes lined up at a well-worn track behind the post office.

“Even though you’re all temporary contractors-” Warriors starts.

“Well if we’re contractors I would like to see the damn contract that I don’t remember signing.” Legend snarks.    
But Warriors ignores him and continues. “You still need to go through all the required training - which means time tracking and the postman pacer test.”

“Just call it the beep test, Link. Everyone does.” Cor says, giving a small red button a few cursory presses. 

Time immediately perks up. “That’s the beep boop!” 

“Are you going to explain what that is or are you going to be cryptic like normal, old man?” Four asks.

“The postmen of my era always had this little beep boop sound in time with their steps.” Time explains with a wide child-like grin. “I think it was something to do with their shoes. I was disappointed when I first came to this era and they didn’t have it - but they somehow brought it back!”

Cor laughed heartily as he gave Time a friendly slap on the back. “It was the least we could do for the tiny murder child who made war duty less of a pain in the ass.” 

“Does anyone find it weird that everyone here calls the old man ‘tiny murder child’?” Wind mutters.    
“The captain’s actually a postman - nothing in this Hyrule can be weirder than that.” Four says. 

Sky eyes the track warily. “This is going to be more running, isn’t it?”

“How else do you think we deliver mail?” Warriors retorts while starting some warm-up stretches. 

“I was hoping you had some surface loftwings.” Sky sighs. “You all know my stamina is terrible - can I be excused?”

“No you may not - and while horses are pretty good, nothing beats pumping your own two legs!”

“And our funding is stretched thin as it is, throwing horses into the mix will just be a disaster.” Cor then shoves the button into Warriors’ hands. “And enough stretching, you’ll be running the test.”

“But I haven’t done it in so long!” Warriors whines. “I can’t be slacking with my scores!”

“I’m all for Link doing the beep test!” Marc adds. “It’s always a pleasure to watch him in action. All hot and sweaty and-”

Cor pulls Marc’s hat over his eyes to shut him up. “After all his time in the army, that’ll just lead to office’s averages being thrown out of whack again and another twenty something levels being added.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Warriors pouts.

“Is anyone going to explain what this test even is?” Hyrule asks. 

“It basically measures your endurance. You have to reach the other side of the track before the beep and it gradually gets faster from there. You can miss the beep twice before you drop out.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard.” Wild says. 

“Don’t jinx us like that.” Legend scowls. “Also where the fuck is the farmboy? Did he get buried in mail or something.”

As if on cue, Wolfie waltzes onto the track with a doubly wolfish grin that says ‘can’t deliver letters if you don’t have hands’. 

Legend glares at the wolf. “Oh fuck you.”

But Warriors grins. “Wolfie! Glad you can join us! I’ve got something especially for you.”

Wolfie freezes and attempts to run away but Warriors grabs him by the collar and attaches a miniature postman hat to his head. 

“There! Now we have a mascot!”

Twilight’s attempt to dodge postman duty earns him no sympathy from the other heroes who don’t hold back their laughter as Wolfie whines and covers his eyes with his paws. 

Four gives him a quick pat. “At least you don’t have to wear the uniform.”

“Line up everyone!” Warriors announces. “The postman pacer test is about to begin-”

* * *

Though the beep test was simple enough in concept, by the end of it, all the trainee postmen were flat on their backs.

“So...so glad I used my spirit orbs on stamina.” Wild pants. 

“I can’t feel my legs.” Sky groans. 

“Fuck you, you were the first to drop out.” Legend tries to sit up but gives up when his limbs refuse to respond. “That was not a test, that was  _ torture.” _

Wind and Hyrule groan in agreement but are otherwise still as stone. 

“I remember some captains using something similar as punishment.” Time says, staring up at the sky. “The soldiers hated it but I found shin-kicking was a better motivator.”

“Yeah, I remember that too.” Warriors says. He sits down next to Time with a notepad filled with their results. “Our soldiers are  _ terrible.  _ Even the captains barely rate a D for postman potential yet they’re entrusted with the safety of the kingdom.” He wonders if those soldiers would be able to handle the duties they frequently mocked. No matter, if his plan falls through then they won’t have a choice. He hums and looks back down at the results. “Overall, I give you all a B-. It would be a straight B but Sky’s results are  _ horrendous.  _ How are you this bad at running when you’re so good at fighting?!”

Sky gives a wheezy laugh. “I don’t need to run much when I fight…”

For the sake of staying on schedule, Warriors is definitely assigning Sky the shorter deliveries - or desk duty. 

Four manages to find enough strength to sit up. “I’m impressed by how well you were able to keep track of time. I doubt even a clock could have more perfect intervals.”

“He was off by 28 milliseconds.” Time says automatically. “So not perfect.”

Warriors pulls Time’s hat over his face. “You little shit.” then he sighs. “But I really have been slacking.”

“Over literal milliseconds?!” Legend’s incredulousness gives him the strength to pull himself up. “That’s basically nothing!”

“Every second, every  _ millisecond,  _ counts when it comes to a crucial delivery.” But Warriors stares down at his scarred arm. If the Triforce had shone 28 milliseconds late, he wouldn’t be here today. 

Legend closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “The old man can keep his secrets because he’s the Hero of Time and cryptic as fuck.” Time smirks at that remark. “But how can  _ you  _ fucking do that?! Don’t tell me it’s another postman thing.”

“Oh but it is - and by the end of today, you’re all going to be able to do the same.”

* * *

Like the beep test, time tracking sounded deceptively easy: clap exactly ten seconds after go.  _ Exactly  _ ten seconds - not a half-second early or late. Time, revealing that his true age was eternally nine, clapped at exactly 9.99 seconds and was excused from the rest of the exercise. 

Surprisingly, Wild got it first try as well - then immediately spaced out into a memory. 

“If he comes out of that saying pre-amnesia him was a postman then I am going to  _ scream.”  _ Legend says. 

“If you're going to scream, then scream exactly ten seconds after.” Warriors says. “Get ready - and go!”

By mid-afternoon, everyone except Legend was deemed competent at time tracking by Warriors. Wind had lured Hyrule and Time inside with the promise of ‘the fastest way of sorting mail ever’! Sky was seated under a tree with a manual for something Warriors claimed would make up for his terrible stamina - though his furrowed brow and worried expression said nothing good about what he was reading. 

Four had seated himself next to the still memory-dazed Wild with Wolfie on his other side, watching Warriors getting increasingly frustrated by Legend’s inability to grasp time tracking. 

It’s only a matter of time before one of them snaps. 

“Here.” Cor says, handing Four a bottle of milk as he joins him on the grass. 

“Thanks.” Four takes a sip then immediately checks the bottle’s label. “This is from Lon Lon Ranch...the one from my era.”

Cor chuckles. “Well then Marc owes me fifty rupees. I remember Missy Malon talking about how short the local hero was during my last delivery. All the Malons we’ve met have been absolute treasures.”

“I bet that eased you into dealing with all us Links.” Four jokes but he notices how Cor’s expression falls. “Sorry - is it too soon?”

The large postman chuckles again but this time softer and more subdued. “No. It’s just - did you know Link is the most common name in our era?” 

“Really? I was the only Link I knew of before I met the others.” Using the Four Sword doesn’t count - his fragments used colour names rather than Link whenever he split. 

“You’d be lucky here to find a town without at least ten Links - and almost all of them would be blond hair and blue eyed. We’ve heard odder nicknames than what you heroes call each other!” Cor laughs again, less forced but not completely joyful. “Our Link was the only Link the postman - but with every other letter having that name on it and every other customer looking nearly like him. It was tough. We thought he was dead for so long but now...it’s business as usual. He seamlessly slid back in like he never left at all.” 

“Well the present moment is the best place to be.” Though Four wonders if he would still be so blasé if it was his long dead and mourned friend returned from the grave.

“Don’t we all know it!” Cor laughs genuinely this time, giving Four a slap on the back that nearly sends him tumbling forward. “I’ll be the first to admit there are things in the past that I would rather stay in the past. As long as the delivery is made, no one asks where the postman came from.” 

Four looks at Cor again. A man taller than his four fragments in totem time with muscles better suited for a farmer or labourer...or mercenary. Faded scars that could have only come from combat criss-cross his tree trunk arms - is war so common in this era that no one bats an eye at battle scars?

He looks over to Warriors who’s one missed clap away from throttling Legend. His strategic mind and combat skills spoke of years of experience - how much of that came from the war that made him a hero and how much came from before that?

The heroes have an unspoken agreement not to pry into each other’s pasts. It’s funny that postmen are the same. 

“I can take his name off the plaque.” Four says absently. 

“Pardon?”

“No use having his name on a memorial if he’s not dead. I’m a smith by trade, I can take it off - free of charge.” Four elaborates. “I think I have enough material on me to make individual plaques for each of them.”

Cor stares at him with wide eyes. “You’d do that?”

Four shrugs. “The friend of my friend is my friend - the same goes for fallen comrades.”

At that moment, Wild comes out of his memory. “We can add rubies, sapphires and diamonds too!” he adds, catching the tail end of the conversation. “I have all the raw ore!”

“The sentiment is appreciated but I think that’s a bit much for just postmen…” Cor says. 

“Not  _ just  _ postmen.” Wild says sternly.

“Were you a postman too?” Four asks, holding back a laugh. 

“If only, I’d love to see how Legend would react to that.” Wild chuckles. “The postmen of my era were the only ones who didn’t make a big deal out of me being a hero.” It was a relief for his past self, to be treated like a person rather than a part of a prophecy. “They said that the first Link the Postman had a sidegig as a hero...and those tapestries kind of look like Warriors - if the artist was on moon rocks and took many  _ many  _ liberties.”

“And time tracking?”

Wild smirks. “How else do you think I do flurry rushes? It’s all about the timing.” 

With all the mail sorted thanks to Wind throwing them like Sheikah shuriken and Warriors occupied until Legend learned how to time track, Four decides to get started on the new memorial while he has some free time. It took more time than he liked but he was also able to convince Wild not to turn the new plaques into gaudy monstrosities. 

But just as he was about to take the original plaque down, a spear - no, a  _ postman sign  _ is thrown at his head. 

“WHAT DO YOU FUCKERS THINK YOU’RE DOING TO OUR MEMORIAL?!” 


	5. Chapter 5

Zomo never planned on returning to duty after that bastard general got him shot in the leg. He was just going to say his final goodbyes at the Fields Office then go on his merry way. Then he learned that their Link, their young naive dedicated Link, had died taking up the post he had left. The report said he was missing but missing was as good as dead in their profession. 

That cold spite is what made him stay, what made him continue war duty, what made him absolutely hate the army.

(But it isn't all spite - Link would have continued his duty even under worse conditions)

When the War of Eras came to a close, there were barely any postmen left. Many died, more to friendly fire than anyone would care to admit - those stupid signs were supposed to signal not to shoot the messenger, seems like a lot of people forgot that. So many more deserted - not that anyone would blame them. They get treated like crap by their allies, get shot at by both sides and are expected to run through the thick of battle with nothing but the clothes on their backs - which barely counted as anything. 

Some offices had left the war completely decimated so it was inevitable that someone from the Fields Office was going to become another office's postmaster.They have the largest retention rate and the most experience. (It’s all in memory of Link - he saw something in being a postman and they would all be damned if that died along with him) 

Almost everyone who was reassigned was given the heavy itchy cloak of a postmaster. Jol got the Dueling Peaks Office, Ezra got the Serene Office and Zomo got the Castletown Office. (Dungo turned down the promotion - he stuck to portal duty like he stuck to his denial, clinging to the vain hope that he might find their Link lost in another era)

One tactless newbie once asked Old Elias why he was always hunched over. The postmaster claimed that it was from the weight of his cloak rather than something logical like a bad back or old age. That newbie had turned into a blushing mess and the rest of the post office got a good laugh out of it. 

Zomo doesn’t remember the newbie's name or face, only that he got sent on war duty and never came back. He should have put more effort into remembering his co-workers - he barely recognised half the names on the memorial plaque. No one else will. No one in this era cares. Who in this era gave a damn about a postman of all things?

(Link would have - he would have remembered the newbie's name, where he came from, where he was last assigned and a whole lot of other little things. But Link is dead so that didn't matter anymore.)

Now, after the war, he was the postmaster of the Castletown Office. Old Elias was right - the cloak was heavy and it wasn’t just from the fabric.

It really isn't a surprise that he was sent there - war duty gave him a thicker skin along with the new scars. He can weather the mockery of the general public - it can't be worse than what the soldiers hurled at him. Maybe he can take a page out of the tiny murder child's book and start aiming for their shins. That would shut them up pretty fast.

Zomo has a thick skin covered in scars and more salt than all of the Great Sea. Spite is a powerful thing. It isn't quite courage yet it isn't arrogance. It let him hold his head high and continue his duty. 

It also gives him the audacity to demand an audience from Commander General Impa herself. To keep making demands and demands until the woman is seated across from him in his shabby office. 

Sheikah are deadly and the warrior who led both the royal army and the Crown's Elite alongside the princess and the hero should truly be feared and respected. Yet here Zomo was, glaring down this woman who could strike him dead within seconds like she was some greenhorn newbie.

"Criminals." Zomo spits. "We run ourselves ragged for the Crown, we deliver crucial messages that _personally_ saved your ass more than once, we risk our life and limb in that war just as much as any of those cannon fodder you call soldiers and your idea for support isn't more funding or easing the work load or starting a recruitment campaign...it's giving us _criminals_."

The general doesn't as much as flinch at his scathing words. If she did, his esteem for both her and the army would drop even lower than the depths of the Dark World where it currently sat. "Yes."

"I don't need to explain to you why this is a bad idea." Zomo glares into those red stoic eyes. "Or is the great Sheikah general dumber than I thought?"

"You asked for more men and the Crown will provide." The general says. Her voice is neutral but she keeps her chin raised, daring him to fight her - and by the goddesses he will. "It's just letters."

Just letters. If Link was here, he would have slapped the general in the face and challenged her to a duel. He could have beaten her too, anyone who had seen him fight knew that he had a knight's training hidden under his fanatic dedication to being a postman. He would have done it while spouting out every reason why their deliveries were more than just letters. Link should have been the one with the postmaster's cloak advocating for improvements in the heart of the kingdom. 

But Link is dead. Dead because their duty and sacrifice was whittled down to just letters.

It is bitter Zomo instead of passionate Link staring down the commander general. He knows he is no match against her in combat, he had seen the general on the battlefield and it was downright terrifying, but he has words that could cut deeper than any blade.

"Is it really about just letters...or is it about propaganda and army morale?" And Zomo doesn't bother hiding his smirk when the general breaks eye contact. "Is her royal grace planning another war? Who against? Labrynna? Holodrum? Calatia? Against the Hyrule from another damn era?"

"Those are things beyond your understanding, _postman_." She says it like an insult but Zomo is beyond that. He might not have Link's pride in the profession but he is a postman and he refuses to be ashamed by that. 

"Yes, I am just a postman - I don't have the strength to fight on the battlefield or the mind for the political power plays of court but I do have fucking eyes to see the bullshit the Crown has been crapping out over the years." Being a postman has always been a tough and under-apricated job but they weren't always treated like the scum of society while providing a necessary service. He might not be as old as Elias but he’s old enough to see how propaganda elevated the army while degrading the postmen. "It's hard convincing people to fight in a war that barely concerns them - even harder to get them to die because some witch thought the hero was so pretty and couldn't keep it in her pants...but you've got all the pawns that you want if being a soldier is better than being a postman. Someone has to be the example, the laughing stock of society, and the Crown in its infinite wisdom decides for the postmen to get shit on - and now you're going to push it further by giving us criminals."

The general doesn't deny it, didn't call him out as a liar because they both know that is the hidden truth. She locks eyes with him once again. "A kingdom's security lies in the strength of its army. To have a strong army you need strong morale - no matter where it comes from."

Zomo scoffs. "You call that collection of turncoats and cowards a 'strong army'? I've been on war duty, our soldiers are so shit that you had to call on help from other eras and now you barely have any messengers to handle the peacetime deliveries let alone the other deliveries the Crown refuses to acknowledge. Looks like to me that you shot yourself in the foot and insist that everything's fine despite fucking bleeding to death."

The general visibly flinches and Zomo smirks.

She recovers quickly, of course. Sheikah would sooner show you their guts than their emotions. "What do you suggest we do then, _Postmaster_?"

"First you don't drag our reputation to the bottom of the cesspit by using it as a community corrections order and then..." and then what? 

Zomo is bitter and scarred. He can see through the propaganda to the true bullshit - but that doesn't mean he knew how to fix it. He doesn't have the optimism to make things better. He doesn't have the innovation to come up with ideas to repair a broken system. He doesn't have the charisma to have others believe that there was merit in being a postman. 

That had all been Link and Link is-

The door slams open and Dungo stumbles in. "Alive!" he cries, out of breath and moments away from collapsing but with a grin so wide it splits his face in half. 

"What the fuck, Dungo?" Zomo says.

Dungo pants, wheezing out unintelligible words instead of trying to catch his breath. 

"Fucking breathe first!"

"Alive!" Dungo wheezes again. "Link's alive and he’s the hero!"

* * *

A fairy flew into the office after Dungo nearly collapsed from exhaustion. She ignored the postmen, of course, but instead rambled on about some magic and portal bullshit that boiled down to their hero, who had been missing for the past several months - not that the Crown would ever admit that to the public, had been located somewhere near the Fields Office. 

The average person runs at a hundred steps per minute. To get from Castletown to the Hyrule Fields Post Office, that would take two days. Someone with a rate of a hundred and fifty would make it there in a day and a half. For a Sheikah and two war-tested postmen with rates of over a hundred and eighty each, they would be there before sunset. 

Zomo has always been running - from his responsibilities, from his family, from his past - it’s what made being a postman such a perfect job for him. After he had recovered from his leg injury, he had been running from the truth as well - that Link was missing and likely dead. That was why he volunteered for war duty over and over again, to see that familiar mop of blond hair and shining blue eyes peeking out from underneath a red cap. 

He never thought to look underneath a green one. 

Link is the most common name in all of the kingdom with blond hair and blue eyes being the most common traits. The army has blue-eyed blondies named Link by the hundreds, maybe even thousands, so it isn't so much of a stretch that one of them would have been elevated to the lofty status of the Legendary Hero. 

Zomo might not have ever spoken to the hero but he had seen numerous times on both the battlefield and in camps yet he never thought that he might have been their Link in fancier clothes. Even if he had recognised him then, he wouldn't have believed it - passing it off as the phantom memories superimposing another Link's face onto the hero. 

Link definitely wouldn't have called him over. Duty above all else was Link's personal motto - an honourable knight's motto followed by more postmen than actual knights. But there were things that hinted that their Link could have become the hero.

The messenger quests for one - no one in the army gave two shits about postmen yet the hero did, even after the army captains shut him down again and again he still found a way to protect the postmen - to ensure that his comrades could deliver their letters and live to deliver again. It was the sort of innovation that their Link was known for yet he missed it entirely.

Then there were the smaller things - the hero’s impeccable sense of time, the ratings he would mumbled to himself after every battle, how he never tried to curb the tiny murder child’s shin kicking habits... 

But the cynical part of him crushes that optimistic hope that Link had survived and was now the hero who led the kingdom's warriors. Link is gone - dead. He would get a brutal reminder of that the moment he saw their humble memorial and the last name listed on the bronze plaque. 

Zomo would have liked to make a memorial in the Castletown Office. Nothing gaudy like the soldiers and nobles' silver and gold but something simple like in the Fields Office - a list of names to remember and maybe a small plot of flowers. Someone should make a reminder that postmen risked their lives just as much as the useless soldiers who got memorials all to themselves - but Zomo wasn't that someone. He barely recognised half the names of the fallen from the Fields Office and the other offices likely had more deserted than dead. They didn't have a Link who inspired them to put pride into their profession - that it was worth dying as a postman. 

Though as much as he tries, that sliver of hope still prevails.

If it is their Link, then Zomo was going to give him a black eye for not telling anyone he was alive and a hug because he was actually alive. If it isn't, at least he could show both the hero and the general their memorial and have something more to convince them that making criminals postmen would trample all over these dead men's memories. 

What Zomo sees as they approached the office made him seethe with rage. Two postmen he doesn't recognise, likely new recruits, trying to pull the memorial plaque off the door.

He grabs the postman sign from his back and hurls it at the smaller one before he can undo the last bolt.

“WHAT DO YOU FUCKERS THINK YOU’RE DOING TO OUR MEMORIAL?!”

The shorty is quick - ducking out of the way of the flying sign. The taller one is even quicker - catching it mid-air then spinning around into a battle-ready pose with a grace that painfully reminds Zomo of their Link. He even has blond hair and blue eyes and there was a near certainty that his name is Link as well. But he is too short, his face is too round, his hair is too long and there is a wildness to his movements that their Link never had. Those scars look painful though - like a bombchu exploded in his face yet he somehow lived to tell the tale. 

The shorter one is a blondie too with the hint of blue eyes peeking out from underneath his hat. 

They see the general first before they see the postmen. The tall one shoves the sign in his back like he is sheathing a spear. He bows and says some gibberish that is probably Sheikah given the general's reaction. 

However, Zomo has no patience for that. 

He storms up the pair with a scowl that had the newbies at his office quivering in their shorts. "That is the memorial to our comrades who died in the war." He says dark and low. "What do you fucking think your doing by defacing it?"

"We're improving it." the taller one says with his arms crossed. 

"We know what we're doing." the shorter one adds. 

Like hell they do. "Who's in charge here?" Zomo demands. 

He expected for them to call for Old Elias so he could weasel an explanation out of the old man. 

But the door opens and another unfamiliar postman with a wolf by his side steps out. "What's going on out here?"

The pair immediately point to the unfamiliar postman...or maybe not so unfamiliar. 

His hat isn't the standard issue but instead a shorter rounder cap that he remembers a certain child in the army camp proudly showing off whenever he got the chance. Underneath, the man has a scar over his right eye sealing it shut - but also has a set of familiar markings that he has seen on a mask held by said child.

They live in odd times and a child spontaneously aging into an adult in the span of a couple months is far from the strangest thing he has encountered. 

The recognition in the man's eyes all but confirms it. "Mr Zomo!" he says cheerfully. 

A small part of him is happy to see the brat again but his incredulousness overrides everything else. "You left the tiny murder child in charge?!"

The not-so-tiny murder child opens his mouth to respond but is cut short by a cry of "WARRIORS! HOW DO YOU STOP THIS THING?!"

And a fourth unfamiliar postman, damn did the Fields Office improve their recruitment game, comes crashing in from the backyard on a fucking battle spinner of all things. The poor soul tries to regain his balance but Zomo has seen this sorry sight one too many times at the camps to know what is going to happen next. With the spinner going too fast and his balance being utter shit, the rider is tossed off the spinner and into the flower garden while the spinner spins off until it disappears in a puff of magic. 

"You okay Sky?" the shorter one asks.

The poor soul looks greener than the hero's tunic and just about ready to hurl. "I am never going with Warriors' ideas ever again." he declares before fainting. 

"Is Sky okay?!" A voice calls from the backyard - a familiar voice that Zomo never thought he would hear again. 

And his ears aren't deceiving him as the person climbing over the fence is none other than Link - their Link, whole and alive. 

The postman uniform leaves little to the imagination. That once flawless skin is covered with more scars than his own. Burn scars run up the entire length of Link's left arm yet on the back of his hand is a single patch of unburned skin perfectly shaped like the triforce - and don't the stories say that their hero emerged by shielding the general from dragonfire? 

Link's eyes fall on him and he breaks into a wide smile. "Zomo! You're a postmaster now!" but then his face drops into that adorable pout he and the others used to always tease him about. "You left your post unattended, didn't you?"

That seals it - this is their Link.

But that’s all cut short by the taller one redirecting his finger at Link. "Warriors is the one in charge - he volunteered us all to be postmen!"

Once again, his incredulousness takes over.

"Who in their right mind leaves this duty obsessed brat in charge?! Neither him or the tiny murder child should be trusted with anything close to responsibility!"

The taller one flinches and then slowly moves his finger to the wolf by the tiny murder child's side. 

Any happiness over finding out Link is alive completely crumbles away. He forgot about the utter chaos that surrounded their Link wherever he went. 

"BOSS! I QUIT!" Zomo yells out of instinct. 

"I'M NOT YOUR POSTMASTER ANYMORE!" Elias's voice calls from inside. "BRING IT UP WITH THE CROWN OR SUCK IT UP.” there’s a pause - then the old man starts yelling again. “ZOMO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE AND NOT AT YOUR OFFICE?!" 

Despite himself, Zomo laughs. He truly laughs for the first time since he found out about Link's disappearance. War might have changed things but in the end, it is still business as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...isn't going to be finished in six chapters, is it? Oh well.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mental Training](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872476) by [verymerrysioux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verymerrysioux/pseuds/verymerrysioux)




End file.
